


Impressionable

by playswithworms



Series: Project Reset [3]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Child Death, Gen, Hatchlings, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Past Character Death, Tissue Warning, hatchling Protectobots, implied past mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 14:02:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/playswithworms/pseuds/playswithworms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They believed every word he said. It was a lesson they would remember, even when Optimus Prime forgot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impressionable

**Author's Note:**

> Prequel to "Project Reset: The Prequel", first published October 2011.

“He was still holding on to…what was left of Hot Spot’s arms, when we got to them. Probably why he’s still alive; he would have leaked to death otherwise.”  
  
Wheeljack had been leaking, too, energon pooling on the floor beneath his frame. They had hidden beside him anyway, and under the pieces of Hoist’s leg because the rest of Hoist was somewhere buried by the explosion. He remembered the hot energon dripping, running through his talons. Hot Spot had refused to let go, to abandon Wheeljack when the big ones came, but they took him anyway and left his arms behind. In the dark place he had found where Hot Spot’s arms used to be and pressed hard against them. The energon needed to stay inside Hot Spot; that much he knew. Through the cold time he held and held tight. Wisehelm, Snugglebits and Tangent held with him, wrapping around Hot Spot, against the cold, and in a protective barrier around them the rest of their brothers, Bridger, Sparkles, Cookie, Caliber, Isotope, Zap. The cold had taken them, their sparks gone dark and silent. There was only a blank numb place now, where once their living brightness had gleamed.   
  
“Starscream will burn in Pit for this, if it’s the last thing I do.”  
  
“He’s long gone, Ironhide.” A long weary sigh. “And all we know is he brought them back. We have no proof that any of this was his idea. When Wheeljack is back online perhaps he can tell us more.”  
  
Starscream. Tangent had been the only one of them still able to talk, to plead for their lives. Please don’t hurt us anymore. Please. Starscream had yelled then, he remembered. Many angry things, loud and screeching, but not at them. His optics had not been kind but he had wrapped them in something blessedly warm and then, after a long hazy time Ratchet was there and some of the pain went away, but not the horrible cold numbness in his spark. Ratchet said that Wheeljack and Hoist would be ok, that Optimus was coming, to be brave, to hold on. And so they did.   
  
“Little ones.”   
  
A warm pressure against his frame and the frames of his brothers, the deep rumble of voice warming through him. He still couldn’t move, but the deep sadness and strength in the voice moved through him, stirring things that had stayed frozen, even after his frame was warm again. Optimus. Their Prime, who had done a dangerous thing so that they could come to be, who had told them, long before they knew words, that they were his hope for the future. He had to stay away, Wheeljack said, when they were old enough to ask. He stayed away to keep them safe. Maybe now that safe was no more, he would not leave them again?  
  
“You can hold them, if you’re careful to keep them together. They won’t let go of Hot Spot.”  
  
“I wonder if they even remember me; it’s been so long. My little ones, I’m so sorry.”  
  
 _Of course we remember._  
  
It hurt to be lifted, to be moved at all, but it was worth it for the thrumming comfort of the mighty spark beneath them. He was too tired to lift his head, but he unhooked one hand from Hot Spot to spread his talons against the warm armor, to pat softly the great sorrow there.  
  
“Happy Claws.” Optimus’ voice was murmuring soft, with a catch to it as he spoke. “He hasn’t changed at all, has he? Even now.” The name felt wrong somehow, like it no longer fit. It didn’t really matter; he just wanted Optimus to keep talking. Snugglebits already had a new name, though he hadn’t told anyone yet. He had chosen who he wanted to be, just like Wheeljack said might happen. He didn’t know how he knew that, but the knowledge was there, along with fact that Hot Spot would always be Hot Spot. Of all of them he had always been exactly who he was.  
  
“All the instincts of a medic, too, apparently. That was a remarkable thing he did for Hot Spot. That they all did.”  
  
A medic. To be able to fix the hurting places so they didn’t hurt anymore, like Ratchet and Hoist and Wheeljack could do. It was a good thought, and he held it close.  
  
He felt Optimus shift slightly to touch Hot Spot close beside him. “Tell me honestly, Ratchet. Everything.”  
  
“We’re in completely uncharted territory with damages to hatchlings this young, Optimus. Anything I tell you now is little better than an educated guess.”  
  
There was a long silence, a rumble that probably came from Ironhide, a reluctant sigh of air through Ratchet’s vents.  
  
“The good news: their sparks have all been gradually stabilizing over the last orn, even Hot Spot’s. I’m at a loss, however, for any way to repair his arms while he’s still developing. Even if I could format components small enough to fit his current configuration, I don’t know if they’ll be integrated as he grows.”  
  
He felt a wave of dismay move through him as Ratchet talked, though he didn’t understand everything. Hot Spot needed to do things, to build and climb and explore. How would he do it without arms, without hands?  
  
 _Well, then, we will have to be his arms,_  he thought, and felt the swift agreement from his brothers although they said nothing out loud. It came from a place deep in his spark, the place that had been trying to fall silent and numb, but his brothers were there now, along with the soothing resonance of Optimus’s voice, and the comfort of Ratchet’s hands. Hot Spot was present, too, barely aware but grasping them all tightly, and they were all in Hot Spot’s spark, and all and each of them together.  _Together,_  they thought, weaving close in grief and love.   
  
“The bad news is that they are all showing every sign of entering their third molt cycle prematurely, perhaps as a response to the damages and trauma. As weak as they are, the shock of losing their siblings and Primus only knows what else they went through…I don’t know. Their processors seem to be intact, but none of them have spoken a word since we got them back. In the best case scenario I can come up with this early molt may be a programming response, a way to jumpstart their self-repair protocols, but I just…maybe Wheeljack or Hoist will have some ideas. I’ve downloaded all of their files, but they still know hatchling systems better than any of us.”  
  
Another hand brushed over them all. Ratchet. Who was worried they would not survive. He recognized the growing ache and discomfort of his frame now for what it was, separate from all the other things that hurt. It had happened before, when everything went stiff and still, a long slow burning within, dreaming and quiet, and when they woke they were different. Bigger and stronger and faster, and they could use words to ask questions and change their armor to different shapes and colors, and they could climb all the way up to the ceiling and Red Alert would make funny sounds when they landed on his helm.  
  
“Thank you, Ratchet,” Optimus said. "I understand." His hands followed Ratchet’s, moving in a gentle caress over their frames, soothing away some of the ache. They all snuggled in, enjoying the feeling of being tucked close and safe against him. Like recharging on Hoist, only Optimus was even warmer, his spark like a bright star burning steady beneath them. “Be strong, small hatchlings.”  
  
 _We will be strong,_  they thought, even Hot Spot who was still not really awake. They promised it to Optimus, and to the sparks of their brothers that were no more.  _We will be strong together._  
  
Ratchet was worried because they weren’t talking. Even Wisehelm had been too weary and sparksick for questions, even unspoken ones. “Optimus,” he tried to say, but it came out as a weak buzz of static. He tried again, and this time it sounded better.   
  
“Little One.” He couldn’t see it, but he could hear the smile in Optimus’s voice. One finger stroked his backplates. “I’m here.”  
  
“They took us away.”  
  
“I know, Little One. I’m so sorry. You‘re safe now; no one will hurt you again.”  
  
“But why?” That was Wisehelm, finding strength for questions at last. Why did they hurt Wheeljack and Hoist? Why did they laugh when Hot Spot lost his arms, when they put us in the dark, cold place? Where did our brothers go when their sparks went out and will we ever find them again?  
  
“Poor little glitch mice,” Ironhide muttered from somewhere.  
  
He felt Optimus shift and sigh beneath them. “I wish I knew, small ones. A wise Prime once told me that those who do such things are broken, that they have been hurt so badly they can no longer see the hurt they do to others. That we must remember this, and not let the hurt they cause break us as well. When we strike out in fear and anger instead of wisdom and compassion, that is when we become like them.”  
  
He didn’t understand everything, and trying made his head hurt, but the broken part made him think of Hot Spot. Could the cruel laughing ones be hurt and broken as well? Would the wise Prime have known how to fix them?  
  
“Sentinel Prime?”  
  
“Yes.” Optimus gave a small, pleased laugh, his hand brushing over them again. “You remember.”   
  
 _We remember._  Optimus had told them stories, long ago. Sentinel Prime was the wisest, and the kindest. He fought for all sentient beings, so their sparks would not be broken, so that their lights would not go out, so that the universe could be full of all the many and the different in freedom and peace, hand meeting hand, or talon, or tentacle, in friendship and joy not fear. Until all were one. Optimus had held them and told them the stories, but then he had gone away.   
  
“Stay?”  
  
There was the tiniest hesitation that told him everything he needed to know, even before Optimus answered. “Yes. I’ll stay.” But not forever. There were bigger things he was needed for, much bigger than five small hatchlings. “Until you are well again. I’ll stay as long as you need me.”   
  
Forever, he wanted to say. We need you forever, but that would make Optimus feel worse and so he didn’t say it. He could feel how much Optimus  _wanted_  to stay, but the bigger things were just so very big. As big as the whole universe. They were growing, though. Maybe someday they would be big and strong enough, like Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. Big enough to help, to heal the broken ones, to fight for all sentient beings, like Sentinel Prime, like Optimus Prime. The place in his spark that had been numb was burning now, fierce and hot and aching, but it was a good pain. He patted Optimus again. His chestplate was full of nicks and dents, unlike their own thin, smooth armor.   
  
 _Yes. Someday we will help him._  
  



End file.
